


a man's home

by ornategrip



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M, Original Character Death(s), Pre-Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornategrip/pseuds/ornategrip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renard shows off his tattoos and kills an intruder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a man's home

**Author's Note:**

> For [this](http://grimm-kink.dreamwidth.org/1735.html?thread=1359047#cmt1359047) prompt on the grimm kink meme.

Someone started pounding on his front door at the same time his cell started ringing.

Groaning, Renard struggled towards wakefulness, shoving the blankets off of his face. This better be damned emergency, he thought. Somebody better be dead. He was utterly exhausted, had finally been able to go home to get some sleep after a spree killer case that had all of Portland on tenterhooks for the past month and half.

His department had just solved it that afternoon and Renard had been the one to arrest the son of a bitch himself. Not a Wesen; just a lowly disturbed human with a penchant for violence and a heap of good luck on his side. Well, his luck had run out and now he was rotting away in jail, never to see the light of day if Renard had anything to say about it.

Nobody messed with his city.

The door kept pounding, the phone kept ringing and with a sigh, he sat up, snatching the cell off the nightstand with one hand and turning on the lamp with the other. _Burkhardt_ the screen read and Renard frowned. What was Nick doing? Renard had sent him home shortly after the bust with strict instructions to rest. He and Hank both had been vital to cracking the case and had just as little sleep as Renard. He answered it even as he stood up to head to his front door.

"Detective, you better have a damn good reason for not following orders."

"Sir, we have reason to believe Johnson had a lover and that she's gunning for you. I'm at the front door, you need to come with me so I can get you someplace safe until we find her."

Renard quirked a brow even though Nick couldn't see him, padding down the hall in his bare feet.

"So that's you making a racket at my front door?"

The pounding stopped.

"Oh yeah. I guess I don't have to knock anymore." Nick sounded sheepish.

"If you weren't so exhausted, that's something that might have occurred to you."

He finally made it to the door, unlocking and opening it. Nick was turned away, staring uneasily over his shoulder out into the yard. His left hand held his phone to his ear, in his right, he held his gun.

"Captain, " he said, dropping the phone as he turned back towards the door. "We really should-"

He broke off with a strangled noise, eyes wide in his face as he took in Renard. His mouth gaped open and shut and Renard just stood there, fighting back a smirk.

"You-! I-" Nick made some more noises before finally choking out, " _Shirt_."

Renard crossed his arms.

"I sleep without a shirt, Detective."

"Tattoos." Nick wheezed out, fingers so lax around his gun handle that Renard had fears he might drop his gun.

"Yes. I have tattoos." Renard couldn't help but rub a thumb along the tattoo above his pec, an absent-minded gesture that Nick's eyes tracked avidly. And when Nick just continued to stare at his chest, Renard sighed and dropped his arms to his sides.

"Perhaps we should head inside so I can get dressed?"

Nick's eyes snapped up to his face, a blush spreading across his cheeks rapidly.

"Right, right. Of course."

Renard stepped back to allow Nick inside, the smaller man putting his phone in his pocket and holstering his gun as he stepped into the house. Renard made a 'follow me' gesture and headed towards the living room, Nick following him obediently. He sucked in a breath when Renard's back was presented to him and Renard allowed himself a smirk. His tattoos weren't just on the front and Nick seemed to be enjoying the view.

Once in the living room, he switched on the light and turned to his detective.

"Stay here. I'll go get dressed then we can head to the station while you explain to me why you're here instead sending a squad car."

Nick nodded, his eyes still lingering on Renard's tattoos and at any other time Renard might be tempted to see where this apparent fascination with body art might get him. But alas, duty called so he went back down the hall to his bedroom.

He grabbed a pair of slacks from his closet, slipping them on and then threading a belt through the loops. As he reached for a shirt however, there was a noise from the back of the house, his sharp hearing pinpointing it as a back window being slid upwards. Instead of a shirt, he pulled open another drawer, the one where he kept his more interesting weapons. The daggers were the first thing his fingers touched so were the first thing he grabbed, tucking them into the back of his waistband. He went back down the hall on silent feet.

Nick was sitting back on the loveseat, eyes shut and head tipped back against the cushion, long lovely neck on display. Renard took a brief moment to appreciate the view before slinking past the dozing detective. This was exactly why he had told Nick to go home to sleep. He made his way to the back of the house, where he could hear the intruder move around in the dark.

Finding her was easy, hunkered down in his study, stinking of sweat and rage. Her scent assaulted his nose; this was no ordinary human. A Blutbad, in his home, no doubt sharpening her claws. That a killer like Johnson had a lover, one who was loyal enough to try to commit murder in her own right, was not surprising. Renard had been in the game long enough that such a thing did not shock him. That she was a Blutbad seeking revenge on behalf of a human, did.

Then again, like called to like and Johnson had certainly been brutal enough to be a wolf.

The door to the study hung open and he sidled along the wall until he was right next to it. He reached it, slapped at the light switch, flooding the room with light. The woman cried out, flinging one claw in front of her wolfed out face. Renard moved quickly, slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. Taking her in alive wasn't an option; handcuffs wouldn't hold her and she'd slaughter any cop who got in her way.

She was snarling, trying to bite him, claw him and he pulled out his knives, slashing at her as they moved and darted around the room. Her eyes gleamed red and she was nothing more than an animal, wild, thoughtless, bestial. She came at him again and he let her, let her slam her body into his, let her claws rake against his sides and his back. He gritted his teeth against the pain and slammed the knives into the small of her back, buried all the way to the hilt.

She gave a strangled scream, going limp and he shoved her off of him to fall to the floor, leaving the knives buried. Blutbaden, like all Wessen could heal rapidly. His own claw marks were healing as he stood there and would most likely be gone by morning. He doubted she could recover from the wounds he had inflicted on her but still. Better to be safe than sorry.

He was standing there, breathing deeply when a noise made him look up. Nick stood in the doorway, gun held out and pointed at him. His eyes were wide in his face. Renard held up his hands, worried for a brief moment that Nick had gone Grimm on him.

"Stand down, detective. It's over. She's dead."

Not quite, but close enough. Renard could hear her heartbeat slowing to the point of no return. She'd be dead in less than ten seconds. Nick blinked rapidly, dropped his gun and brought one hand up to scrub at his face. Renard felt himself relax; if Nick had seen him, he doubted the younger man would have taken his aim off of him.

"Sorry, sir. I heard the fighting and came over but by the time I got here..." he trailed off, stepping into the room to look down at the body. Dead, she had returned to her human form. "Her name is... was Laura Brown. She and Johnson met up a couple of years ago and had an on again off again relationship. They were apparently on the outs when he came here to Portland and started his killing spree. She was heading this way to get back with him when we arrested him. She decided to go after you as the arresting officer."

Renard stepped over the body, gently taking Nick by the elbow and steering him out of the room. Nick looked dazed, eyes too wide in his face and bags under them dark enough to look like bruises.

"While I am curious as to how you learned all this while you were supposed to be resting, I find myself more appreciative of the fact that your disregard for orders saved my life."

Not really true, Renard being what he was it was doubtful even a Blutbad could get the drop on him. Still, Nick's warning made sure that Renard had been fully prepared for an attempt on his life. He led Nick back to the living room, sat him down on the chair before perching himself on the armrest. Nick gave him a lopsided grin.

"Thank you, Captain." Nick was about to say more when the sudden sound of sirens split the air. "Oh. That's my backup. I called them on my way over."

Nick made to get up and Renard pushed him back down, patted his arm.

"Stay seated, Detective. I'll handle this."

As Renard made to leave, Nick reached out, grabbed his wrist. His hand was warm.

"I'm glad you're okay."

He was staring up at Renard with earnest eyes, hair flopping down into his face. Renard couldn't help but smile softly down at him and reach down to tuck the hair away from his eyes.

"So am I, Detective."

With one last lingering caress to Nick's hair, Renard pulled away and went to let the newly arrived officers into his home.


End file.
